


and from you, the next star is created

by valkyrierising



Series: come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine! [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Constantine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Fix-It, Gen, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/pseuds/valkyrierising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I cannot interfere in the universe unless there’s a deeper disturbance. The woman,” at the mention, brought up memories of the one he knew as Laurel Lance. He knew her in such a brief amount of time, beautiful and violent. He was just his type, if she weren’t so involved with the heroism and the well adjusted, “she’s an important part to the timeline. She cannot fall, because if she falls, there is no hope for the others.”</p><p>“And don’t we all need our heroes,” he said wryly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and from you, the next star is created

He really did not like small towns, John mused to himself as he walked from the spell books strewn all around him. The last house call he had made prior to returning home was enough to cause him to return to the cabin of many rooms, and not come out for at least a good month. He banished the boogeymen others were too scared or too dumb to find a way to get rid of but he was drained. Even with Zed and Chas, and an angel he wasn’t quite sure what to make of, the job took a lot out of him. The latest was in Hell, Michigan where a nasty ghoul possession threatened mass suicide. There were things coming out that shouldn’t have been coming out, and with Manny not telling him everything, he was starting to get pissed.

 

Aberdine’s cabin was home to the strangest relics in the universe. Things the Black Room didn’t even have a clue of. Constantine himself had catalogued nearly everything in the place but he was also unsure of the magnitude of each object. He was smart enough to understand that most things were between the world-ending and universe-breaking spectrum. Among those objects, Fate’s helmet seemed to like its nice area on the table; there were no other articles surrounding it that could interfere with the properties and Zed dusted it pretty frequently that it was probably the cleanest thing on display. 

 

At midnight on April 6, it shook. The biggest problem with Fate’s helmet (he didn’t even know the damn bloke who wore it previously, just found it in the ruins of an old Welsh castle with Zee that one time but he always knew someday the owner would return) is that when it needed something, it made itself heard loudly. It was connected to the cabin, and today it was  _ not  _ happy _.  _

 

“Oi,” he yelled from the top of the staircase. Zed, perched on the couch near the edge of the room, bolted for the helmet while Chas came from the hallway. 

 

“Constantine,” the helmet boomed 

 

“Why is the helmet talking?” Zed turned to him. No one approached the helmet for fear of what it could do, but the second shake that threatened the other objects spurred him towards it. 

 

“You must put me on. It is imperative you do so,” the helmet intoned. 

 

“How do I know I won’t go stark-mad?” He moved the helmet from the table, holding it in his hands. Zed, bless her, had gotten one of the tomes in her hands, ready to knock the helmet down. 

 

“The woman you know as Laurel Lance is dead, and there’s not enough time. I’ll tell you more,”

 

“Oliver’s lady bird friend?” He cast a sidelong glance at the helmet before grabbing his phone and tossing it to Zed. “Look up a Queen, ask what happened to the Lance girl. I’ll be back and if I don’t come back entirely there, do what you have to.”

 

With a weary sigh, he placed the helmet onto his head and was transported to another dimension. Long buried memories of his were at the front, the entire place swirling with memories and fragments of reality. He swore he saw a red streak cross by, along with blue capes shining. The helmet finally spoke.

 

“I cannot interfere in the universe unless there’s a deeper disturbance. The woman,” at the mention, brought up memories of the one he knew as Laurel Lance. He knew her in such a brief amount of time, beautiful and violent. He was just his type, if she weren’t so involved with the heroism and the well adjusted,“she’s an important part to the timeline. She cannot fall, because if she falls, there is no hope for the others.”

 

“And don’t we all need our heroes,” he said wryly, reaching out to catch a glimpse of the blonde hugging her sister. She was deeply entwined with many people, some briefly and some more than. Among her as the Canary, stood others in similar costumes, defenders of the Earth.

 

“She carries hope and bravery inside her like a torch. That torch cannot be extinguished.”   
  


“You know I’d put her bravery in the reckless territory.”

 

“Now is not the time for jokes John Constantine. The universe has chosen you to restore balance.”

 

“What kind of joke are you lot playing? I don’t restore balance. If anything, I throw it all off.” He asked. He’d been transported to a second plane, one that was nothing but darkness and peace. At the end of the plane was a doorway.

 

“She has affected you John Constantine. Not in the way you’d think, but in the way that heroes do. She might be one of the truest souls. Heroes inspire us all, even if we don’t see it ourselves.”

 

“That’s a load of bollocks, but you know what’s best helmet. Let’s go save ourselves a bird,” he said as they neared the door, and a brightness burned all around.

 

++++

 

_ Time of Death: Eleven Fifty-Nine _

 

Death is nothing what Laurel imagined. The park where she and Sara used to play as children was the setting, and it was a late fall afternoon. She always liked the fall best, especially when the sun shone paired with brisk winds. 

 

She remembered everything up to her last moments. Her dying words a love song to a man who didn’t love her back. It was okay, you see, because she had accepted a while back that he wouldn’t love her the way she wanted him to. He would find happiness and her happiness would come some day. The second thing she had remembered, with startling clarity, was who was going to tell Sara? Grief filled her as she searched the area, desperately hoping a familiar face would show up.

 

It was so quiet. She expected her grandfather, maybe even Tommy to appear. At the center of the park, a blinding light grew and grew until something made a shadow. That was odd, she thought, was this God? Or something else? Would it guide her where souls meet their resting place because something about the park felt that it was liminal space; a stop-over before she reached her destination. She didn’t know what to do besides walk forward to meet the new figure in this space with her. It was by the swingset in the center, waiting. 

 

“Who… are you?” She slowed to a halt as the figure turned. It wore blue, a yellow cape blending into gold. She wasn’t one to judge costumes, given her second profession but this drew attention. Lots of it. 

 

“Not the creator if you’re think that luv,” the voice sounded familiar as she gasped and ran forward. She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to do, but the sound of someone so familiar, someone who had helped her bring back Sara, filled her with relief. He was good, as far as she knew. And he was familiar. That’s what counted in the moment.

 

“John? Constantine? What the hell are you doing in my afterlife?” She asked as she hugged him, as he returned it. 

 

“I’m here to bring you home, back to the place of the living. Where you belong.”

 

“But why?” She asked as she backed up from him. “I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it but won’t that fuck with everything?”

 

“The universe has something bigger for you sweetheart,” John said, but it wasn’t really  _ him _ because there was another voice speaking. “How about the other guy who’s here with us?” She asked John and looked at him. He looked at her peacefully, in a way that wasn’t like the John she knew. It was hilarious because she knew him at best a day, and he was so not like Oliver or Diggle. He had looked like he had seen things, and he hadn’t known peace in forever.

 

“My name is Nabu, but you can call me Doctor Fate,” the voice behind John spoke. “I chose this host for many reasons, but those are not important. You are.”

 

“This is incredibly weird,” she had responded, staring at John, dressed as Fate. “Why are you here?”

 

“Because the cosmos need heroes Ms. Lance. You do many things, you fight for justice and for peace. The universe needs you. You matter a great deal more than you know.”

 

“Okay. I guess I’m just shocked.” She looked around the park. An impression of a memory of her and Sara running around the park together, the echo of their laughter filling her ears blended into their surroundings. A part of her was filled with relief and she felt the prickling behind her eyes. She didn’t want to die and getting a second shot was far more than most people got. “My second question would have to be is, why’d you pick him? I haven’t known him for long.”

 

“His soul is an old one, battered and partially darkened. It’s what happens when you let magic into your life like he does, and choose to fight the darkness. He doesn’t always win sometimes. You have known magic, in the woman you call Mari McCabe and in the Lazarus Pit, used to bring back your sister and in him, who restored the soul of your…Sara. Your soul has seen magic and it thinks of the goodness that can be accomplished; it collided with his like a supernova. You helped him remember the magic in the universe doesn’t always corrupt.”

 

“Huh.” She had moved to the swing set, sitting as they spoke to her. 

 

“Laurel,” John’s voice came through clear. That was really him. “We have to go soon, we’ve only got a limited amount of time before the cosmos throw a shitfit.”

 

“Yeah,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, turning to follow John/Fate. Another door had materialized and John/Fate had extended a hand towards her. “Let’s go.” 

 

It was quiet again, but she felt the universe in her ears. Like a train roaring by, she somehow felt the universe surrounding her, opening passage for them to return. She caught a brief glimpse of Sara, wonderful Sara, fighting a crowd of people and smiled at the memory of her sister who she loved dearly.  _ Lance girls never die, _ a very small voice piped up as they made their way towards the living. 

 

“Thank you, Doctor Fate,” she said, they had walked through the door. A fork appeared in front of them, a door clearly meant for John to return to wherever he was, and a door for her to return back to. “I truly cannot thank you enough.”   
  


“The repayment will be in how you help the universe.  _ We  _ cannot thank you enough.” Fate said, just as he slipped away from her. 

 

“Goodbye John Constantine,” she whispered, as the blinding white light engulfed her and she woke up with a jolt. 

 

++++

 

John had disappeared. Okay rewind, John put the helmet on and  _ then  _ he disappeared. Zed was quite frankly in the middle of losing her shit, whereas Chas was perched on her spot on the couch. They found out that someone had died, a Laurel Lance, who John had mentioned twice when he returned from Star City. Like nosy people, her and Chas had immediately googled her while they were on a job and found out that she was an assistant district attorney. They had wondered what kind of trouble she had gotten herself around that she got her friend to call in John to restore her sister’s soul. 

 

He never spoke of her again, but a ghost of smile lingered on his face when someone had mentioned the Black Canary did more for Star than the Green Arrow ever did at the bar.. She and Chas had gotten their answer who she was. 

 

Today, the helmet took John and they were gone for what felt like hours, but was really five minutes, tops; Chas timed it, and let out a breath when John finally returned. John wrenched the helmet off and slammed it onto the table. 

 

“Damn universe,” he muttered as she rushed forward to hug him, to see if he was real. “I’m alright Zed, not a hair out of place.” He returned her hug back, hugging tighter.

 

“Where did you go?” Chas asked. 

 

“I got to play creator of the universe, and bring a girl back from the dead. I’m going to need one hell of a drink,” he pointed to them both. “Come along then, I’ll tell you all about it.”

 

As they followed him into the kitchen, he turned back to yell at the helmet. “Don’t say I never did a bloody damn thing for the world.”

 

Zed traded a glance at Chas, who seemed more bemused at the outburst. 

 

++++

 

The first thing she felt was one hell of a shock, and a surge of electricity go through her. Felicity, Thea and Diggle were in the corner, weeping and holding onto each other as she took in deep breaths. Oliver, who stood by the doorway, rushed in as the other doctors swarmed her to check her vitals. 

 

“She alive!”

 

“Miraculous, it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before!” 

 

“Call in Dr. Schwartz, now!” 

 

“Quentin,” she heard Oliver yell, “she’s breathing. She’s come back.”

 

“What do you remember?” Dr. Schwartz came in, checking her vitals as she barely managed to move her head in a nod as the doctors checked around her. 

 

“I don’t - I can’t remember anything besides everything going dark,” she breathed out, breath coming out unsteady. 

 

“Everything checks out fine, your vitals are in tip-top condition. You’re a survivor, but you already knew that,” Dr. Schwartz smiled as she cleared everyone out. Laurel feels a twinge come from her stomach and she feels down her medical garb. The bandage that was there was fresh but it seemed that the wound was no longer there. 

 

“Thank you,” she breathed into the silent room, the sound of the medical devices beeping and whirring around her, calming her down. As she lied down and tried to rest, she saw her father and Felicity, holding onto each other from the window, paired with Diggle keeping Thea up and Oliver smiling softly at her. They all looked so elated, their eyes red rimmed but hopeful at her return. She mustered up a weak smile and waved. She was back home, with the people she loved. “Thank you so much for bringing me back to life,” she spoke into the room before sleep crept towards her, the exhaustion of everything winning out against the brief adrenaline she had when she returned.

 

++++

 

The helmet was pleased with itself; the universe that was shaken had calmed as the woman known as Laurel Lance was revived, righting the timeline. 

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from [this poem by nikita gill](http://meanwhilepoetry.tumblr.com/post/103715926128/this-universe-of-ours-is-not-made-of-stars-it-is)
> 
> this plot was literally inspired by the thought of hey john constantine has the helmet of fate doesn't he, why hasn't anyone done something with that. unless someone already has.... comments are always appreciated!


End file.
